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" Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here ; But the... "
The New monthly magazine and universal register. [Continued as] The New ... - Seite 80
1853
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The Harbinger: A May-gift

1833 - 96 Seiten
...crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here, But the old three cornered hat, And the breeches — and all that Are so queer...I do now At the old forsaken bough Where I cling. THE BALLAD OF THE OVSTERMAN. V It was a tall young oysterman lived by the river side, His shop was...
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The Laurel: a Gift for All Seasons: Being a Collection of Poems

1836 - 252 Seiten
...crack In his laugh, I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here, But the old three cornered hat, And the breeches — and all that Are so queer...I do now At the old forsaken bough, Where I cling. STANZAS. Bf JGC BRAIHARD. THE dead leaves strew the forest walk, And withered are the pale wild flowers...
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The American Monthly Magazine, Band 1;Band 7

1836
...me to sit and grin At him here, But the old three cornered hat, And the breeches — and all that, "And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the...do now At the old forsaken bough, Where I cling." Here is another from the same original and graphic hand — a bold, spirit-stirring lyric. It was written...
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The Knickerbocker: Or, New-York Monthly Magazine, Band 7

Charles Fenno Hoffman, Timothy Flint, Lewis Gaylord Clark, Kinahan Cornwallis, John Holmes Agnew - 1836
...ait and grin At him here, But the old three-cornered hat. And the breeches — and all that, Are *o queer! ' And if I should live to be The last leaf...the spring — Let them smile as I do now At the old foneakcn bough, Where I cling.' < LITERARY RECORD. BYBON'S WORKS. — The first volume of DEARBORN'S...
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The Book of the Months: A Gift for the Young

1839 - 196 Seiten
...nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. " But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff; And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy...do now, At the old, forsaken bough Where I cling." The Thanksgiving, that festival peculiar for many years to New England, came round this month. Great...
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The Poets of America, Band 1

John Keese - 1840 - 320 Seiten
...nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy...I do now At the old forsaken bough Where I cling. THE BIRTH OF A POET. BY J. HEAL. ON a blue summer night, While the stars were asleep, Like gems of...
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The Poets of America, Band 1

John Keese - 1840 - 284 Seiten
...breeches — and all that Are so queer ! * ^ And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree „ 'm In the spring — Let them smile as I do now At the old forsaken bough Where I cling. THE BIRTH OF A POET. BY J. NEAL. ON a blue summer night, While the stars were asleep, Like gems of...
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American Melodies: Containing a Single Selection from the Productions of Two ...

1841 - 286 Seiten
...nose, And his cheek was liie a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy...Let them smile as I do now At the old forsaken bough I THINK OF THEE. BY OBOBeK n. PBBVTICB. I THiXi of thee. when morninir springs From sleep with plumage...
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The Poets and Poetry of America: With an Historical Introduction

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - 1842 - 468 Seiten
...crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here, But the old three-comer'd hat, And the breeches — and all that, Are so queer...Let them smile as I do now At the old forsaken bough 346 OLIVER W. HOLMES. OLD IRONSIDES." AT, tear her tatter'd ensign down ! Long has it waved on high,...
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Gems of Poetry, from Forty-eight American Poets: Embracing the Most Popular ...

1848 - 252 Seiten
...is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here, But the old three cornered hat, And the breeches—and all that Are so queer! And if I should live to be...I do now At the old forsaken bough, Where I cling. STANZAS. BV J. G. C. BRAINARD. THE dead leaves strew the forest walk, And withered are the pale wild...
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